


Dream Day Scenario

by winehabit



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:58:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winehabit/pseuds/winehabit
Summary: written for the prompts: "I've been holed up in a room with all the windows shut for days trying to finish this goddamn oil painting and it reeks in here and I think im on the verge of collapsing from the fumes but then u drag my ass outside and force me to get cleaned and dress and take me out on a stress-relieving day to chill and honsetly what would I do without u" + “You stole my candy and now you’re taunting me with it in your mouth and I kiss you to steal it. Bet you didn’t expect th- wait why are you kissing me back?!”





	Dream Day Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be posted on 4/20 but the author was, ahem....... in an altered state at the time

You could remember nearly every detail of freshmen orientation as clear as day. Shuffling along with your tour group through the annals of the fine arts building, peering into the almost cubicle-sized rooms on each side of the hall. It was explained that they were reserved for seniors working on their various thesis projects. 

It was like a strange sort of artistic academic zoo. Each studio was intimate and unique to each student’s process. In one, a girl was fighting for floor space in a sea of vintage baseball cards, lava lamps, and a three-foot-tall block of clay. She was losing that fight.

“Where is your station?” A plucky brunette in the front of the group questioned. A prideful gleam shone in the eye of the upperclassmen tour guide.

“Back here! Follow me and file in tight to the walls if you don’t mind!” She trilled, leading the group into an almost impossibly small room for all eleven of you. A clear plastic label on the wall of the station read DANIELS, SUMMER.

 

She drifted past and you instinctively stepped back, directly onto the toes of the boy behind you. You stumbled a bit, a hand going out to steady you.

 

Instead of hitting the back wall, your fingers met with a much _fleshier_ surface. You turned, quickly pulling your hand from where it had found his hip.

“Sorry.” You whispered but he was already waving it off with a grin.

“I should say so, handsy.” He whispered back and winked as you stifled a laugh. Summer was still going through her elaborate plan to scale up the mold she’d made of the inside of her mouth and turn it into a functional chair. The boy held out a hand.

“Poe. Poe Dameron. Design.” He whispered.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Fine Arts.” He was handsome, there was no denying it. His dark curls fell around his ears, with the unruly few at the top pulled back in a hair elastic.

Maybe it was the jitters of orientation, the fact that you didn’t know anyone on campus, or just simply because your stomach was digesting itself, but the jittery words were out of your mouth before you had time to overthink them.

“D’you wanna grab a coffee when we get out?” You breathed and he grinned.

“Sure,” He whispered with a bit of a laugh. “That’s assuming they ever let us out.”

As if on cue, Summer chose that moment to usher the group back into the hall and onto the next spot of the tour.

____________________________

Coffee turned into shared interests, which turned into a friendship that lasted through the next three years. You’d spend breaks together, a week in winter at his family’s home in the California redwoods. In spring, a week at your parent’s farm on the chilly coast of Maine.

During the semester, you busied yourselves with finding new ways to keep each other sane. Where Poe tended to procrastinate and panic at the last moment, you would buckle down and focus to the point of running yourself ragged.

Which brought you to your current predicament.

Senior thesis was kicking the life out of you.

The memory of orientation, the life in your eyes as you rambled out an almost impossibly excited _‘can you believe we get our own studios’_ over coffee later that day made you laugh _._ With the amount of caffeine you had consumed in the past week, the laugh was just this side of manic.

You hadn’t left the confines of your cramped studio in the better part of three days. Everything you had ever or would ever love was covered in oil paint. The air was thick with the smell of linseed oil, turpentine, and sleep deprivation. The floor on all sides of you was a mess of granola bar wrappers, Redbull cans, paint-stained towels, reference pictures, and magazines you’d hacked to pieces. The canvas, propped up against the wall, was taking up two-thirds of your floor space. Standing a six feet tall and four feet wide, taller than yourself and just under half finished.

It was the fourth in a series and was due to be submitted for final critique in four days. You reasoned that if that meant holing up and forgoing the simple pleasures of a shower and the light of day until it was done, so be it.

A knock at the studio door interrupted what had to be the eighth consecutive playthrough of your studio playlist. Before you could tell whoever it was to come in or send them away with whatever hellacious shriek you could muster, the door swung open.

Once your eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescents of the hallway Poe’s silhouette came into focus.

“’S everything-” He cut off, fanning the air in front of his face and coughing dramatically. “Y’ alright there, Y/N?” His voice was a bit raspy from his theatrics but it couldn’t mask the feeling of someone approaching a rabid animal.

“I’m fine, Dameron,” You rolled your eyes at him. Putting the end of your brush between your lips, you reached to pause Florence Welsh’s signature wail.

You watched almost in slow motion as your jittery over-caffeinated movements toppled a solo cup of grey paint. You swore under your breath, grateful that your shin blocked the pigmented tidal wave from reaching the canvas.

“Is that the answer you’re going with? Because Rose said you haven’t been home since Thursday and it's currently Saturday.” He leaned casually against the threshold. “Not to mention you Simba’d yourself with gold paint god knows how long ago.” He ghosted a thumb over his own forehead and sure enough when you mimicked the action your thumb came back flecked with gold.

“And with the sheer volume of paint fumes in here you have to be approaching the point of asphyxiation,” Poe concluded, sidestepping and sliding past jars, cups, and wrappers until he was at your side.

When his lean muscular arms hooked under your own, you all but thrashed.

“Poe, the paint-“

“Will dry, chip, and be painted over before the end of the semester.” He continued to hoist until you were on your feet. You leaned over again, ignoring the way his fingertips ghosted over the skin of your hip, prepared to keep you upright if need be. You were eventually able to lay down enough paint-stained towels to ensure the survival of your hard work, even with Poe’s fingers hooking in your belt loops in an attempt to physically drag you away.

“Alright, alright I’m out.” You raised your hands in surrender as you were pulled into the crisp, clean air of the hallway. “So, Poe Dameron, Breaker of Academic Chains, and Liberator Extraordinaire, where to?”

“You’re _so_ hilarious. You know, it’s a shame this school doesn’t have a comedy minor.” He deadpanned as he pulled you by the hand towards the elevators. He kept his pinky hooked with yours as you waited for the elevators, always keeping a point of contact, as though you’d be dragged back into the suffocating studio by sheer magnetism alone. ”But I figured we’d stop at mine, get you cleaned up, then weed, people watching in central park, and thennn. . .” He provided his own drum roll as the elevator finally arrived. “Back to mine for harsh critiques of competitive baking shows.”

Shit. He meant business. He hit every mark on your-

“Yup. Dream day scenario.” _Wait. Did you say any of that out loud?_ One glance at his face told you no. He honestly just knew you that well.

“Let’s get to it then.”

_______________________

“I still can’t believe they let you into the RA program, Poe.” You said, an hour later as you watched his fingers move seemingly of their own accord.

“What do you mean?” Poe had the audacity to almost look offended as he dragged his tongue along the rolling paper to seal it off.

“You smoke more than anyone I’ve ever met!” You laughed incredulously, shifting on your perch at the edge of the boulder overlooking the baseball fields so that you were laying down. You hummed contentedly at the pleasant warmth of the sunbaked stone. “Not to mention, you smoke the contraband you confiscate from your residents!”

“Yeah, because my kids are degenerates,” he spoke as though it was common knowledge and you couldn’t help but laugh. ” But I’d rather destroy evidence than have seven kids on academic probation.” He reasoned watching as you nodded lazily.

“You really are a man of the people, Dameron. Saving the local hermit _and_ smoking her up with the people’s weed?” He chuckled at that as he handed you the finished joint before setting to work on rolling one for himself. You let it hang lazily from the corner of your mouth, not lighting it just yet.

“Earning my way to heaven, what can I say?” You pushed him lightly as you laughed. You watched his hands move almost on instinct for the next few moments until he brought the finished joint to his lips and lit the end as well as your own.

The earthy taste and slight burn at the back of your throat already had your shoulders relaxing from their perch up around your ears, a residence they’d taken up as deadlines grew closer. The feeling of the sun on your face was heavenly.

Poe took a drag and held it for a moment before exhaling a plume of smoke which was punctuated with a few haphazard rings. You focused on them while you took your next drag, watching each ring lose shape and dissipate in seconds. _Wait,_ your buzzing mind chimed. _Rings._

“Could you be so kind as to toss me the peach rings, good sir?” A second later you felt the small orange bag land at your side and were able to make out Poe’s mumbled _nerd_ as he leaned over to set your can of green tea beside you.

“And yet you keep me around.” You trilled, squinting to grin at him through the sunlight before resting your eyes once more. “Also, in case I haven’t said it yet, thank you. For,” you gestured vaguely at your surroundings, “all of this. I’ll pay you b- _hey!”_

Your eyes shot open as something small pinged off your temple. A quick glance revealed both the projectile and the perpetrator. A gummy shark, much like the one that was hanging from the corner of Poe’s mouth.

“No thanking and no talk of repaying. That’s two rules you just broke. Should’ve been two sharks but-” He gestured to the candy in his mouth, grinning around it as he chewed. “He got caught.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him as he went on, under his breath as if he was thinking out loud.­ “if you’re gonna thank anyone for this. thank Pava for the weed.”

“No shit. Pava got busted? _You_ busted Pava?! Wait,” You crossed your eyes, trying to focus on the glowing embers held between your lips. ”This is Chicago weed?” You croaked out on an inhale.

“Yep and nope.” At your furrowed brow he elaborated. “She left it on her desk when I warned her I’d be in for health and safety checks.”

“Sloppy. Raised her better than that.” You mumbled, biting into a peach ring and ignoring the way Poe’s gaze snapped to you.

“… _Noted_. Anyway, this is from Colorado apparently.” He took another drag. “Her father got stationed in Boulder.” He exhaled slow, closing his eyes as he did. You ­­followed suit as he laid down beside you.

You couldn’t recall a time in recent memory when you had been this relaxed. The warm sun on your face felt like it was rejuvenating every cell in your body. Around you, kids climbed and screamed, taking advantage of the view from the top of the boulder.

You hummed in annoyance when you were suddenly plunged into darkness. The bag beside you crinkled as you felt a warm arm across your middle.

“Poe, you don’t even _like_ peach rings!” You whined. You cracked an eye open, making a conscious effort to hide any reaction to Poe’s close proximity. His upper half hovered above you as his hand disappeared into the bag of sweets.

“So?” He was taunting you. He was close enough that the candy held delicately between his teeth was mere inches from your lips. The quirk of his eyebrow was a challenge.

_How far are you willing to take this?_

Situations like this were fairly commonplace in your friendship with Poe. It seemed like you were always doing this dance. One of you (usually Poe, if you were being honest) would taunt the other in an attempt to get them to take the offered bait and see what unfolded. Your friendship was always changing, always adapting to fit what you needed.

Looking back on it, you couldn’t count the number of times over the years where a study session had run late, with the two of you waking the next morning with limbs tangled in a mess of crumpled notes pages. But something always stopped you from taking that last step over the line and into the unknown.

Only this time, as you looked at the candy and felt his cool, sugar-sweet breath sweeping over your lips, one thought made it’s way to the forefront of your swirling brain.

_Two could play at that game._

Before you could pause to overthink it you had leaned up to close the distance between the two of you. Your lips barely ghosted over his as they closed around the candy held there.

You immediately moved to pull back, convinced you had fucked it all up, pushed too far too fast. However, before you could retreat even a millimeter, you were shocked to feel Poe surge forward and deepen the kiss. 

Your stomach was doing flips that you couldn't even blame on the sugar, the caffeine, _or_ the weed. _You wanted this._ Hell, you swore you felt your heart slam against your ribcage in an attempt to close the remaining, albeit small space remaining between the two of you. 

You were the first to come up for air, your eyes opening in time to see Poe’s heavy-lidded gaze fall on you. His mouth dropped open, your eyes immediately clocking the movement as his tongue darted out to sweep over his lower lip. Heat rose in your cheeks as he grinned watching you put your face in your hands, laughter bubbling up from your throat.

“Uh-uh,” His hands wrapped around your wrists in the next moment, pulling them away from your face. Your laughter cut off with a short chuckle when Poe’s lips were back on yours.

_______________________

“She went too big! Mark my words, Candice is going to have a raw little loaf and Paul’s gonna eat her for breakfast.” Poe’s laughter vibrated against your cheek where it rested on his chest an hour after you’d returned from your park adventure in a bubbly haze.

“Oh yeah? And you know this because...”

“There’s always one when it comes to bread week,” you explained the delicate science that went into the incredibly pleasant baking competition. “Someone always bites off more than they can chew-“ you quickly pointed a finger at him when you saw him open his mouth to call you on your unintentional pun and he cut off with a laugh. You grinned up at him. “Only in this case she’s a habitual overachiever _and_ she wants a piece of Paul Hollywood’s pastry.”

Poe’s laugh was so sudden and loud that you started and damn near fell off the edge of the bed. Had his arm not shot out to pull you back to his chest you would have been flat on your ass. He was still laughing as he buried his face in your hair, pressing kisses to your head that had a giddy grin fighting its way onto your face.

“Stars, you’re such a nerd.” He grinned, punctuating the affectionate observation with another kiss, this time stamped to your forehead. You hummed contentedly, suddenly feeling as if your eyelids were weighed down with lead. “Y/N?” You hummed again. “How long have you been awake?”

“Forty….two-ish hours?” You mumbled, eyes closing as a monstrous yawn cutting you off in the middle of your strenuous mental math.

“Seriously… were you born without self-preservation instincts? It’s almost impressive at this point.” You distantly clocked the sound of his laptop snapping shut a moment before he was leaning over you to set it on the bedside table. “Sleep, Y/N.”

“Only for… few minutes.” You slurred, your thoughts hazy and disjointed. “Have’ta be back in th…”

Poe fought to contain a laugh as you drifted off mid-word. Instead, he settled for pulling you closer to his side and pressing his lips to your temple before allowing himself to drift off as well, the hint of a smile still on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and let me know what you think!


End file.
